Mean Woman Blues

syndrome.”
    He couldn’t follow very well after the word
gunshot
. “Someone shot me?”
    “You don’t remember? Well, that’s very normal; there’s nearly always memory loss with a concussion. You may also feel groggy or confused, have headaches; you could even hallucinate.”
    “I think I’m hallucinating now.”
    Lovelace laughed, but the doctor said, “No, you’re not.” All business.
    Who the hell had shot him?
    The doctor asked him a series of questions about the year and the season, the date, the state, the city, and other things. She asked him to remember three words for three minutes, and, absurdly, to count backward in serial sevens from one hundred.
    That one he failed immediately. “Ninety-two,” he said.
    “Ninety-three,” Lovelace chimed in, eliciting a glare from the doctor.
    There were other questions, including a strange little task that involved folding paper, and a reflex check and a neurological exam.
    Except for the sevens, he felt he did pretty well. “So I’m not brain-damaged?” He finally got up the nerve to touch his head, and felt bandages.
    “The initial tests show no substantial structural damage, but your postconcussion symptoms could be quite variable.”
    God she was a stick. He looked at Lovelace. “Well, the hell with that. Am I bald?”
    Uptight as she was, the doctor chortled. Lovelace howled, literally laughed till she cried. Brain-damaged or not, Isaac knew the joke was nowhere near that funny, knew his niece was just relieved that he was coherent. He wished the two of them would shut up because he had a much more important question to ask. “Is Terri okay?” he said. They kept right on laughing, didn’t even hear him.
    He tried it louder, raising his voice a little. “Hello out there. Is Terri okay?”
    They wound down. Lovelace said, “Sure. She sat up all night with you. She’s just gone home to rest for a while. Let’s call her.”
    “Ummm. Just a second. How did I get here?”
    Both of the women looked dismayed. “Someone shot you,” the doctor began.
    “In New Orleans?”
    She nodded patiently. “Remember? We’re at Charity Hospital in New Orleans.”
    “I remember something about Dallas.” He couldn’t remember anything much, except driving aimlessly, looking for Terri. “I dreamed Terri was in terrible trouble. You sure she’s okay?”
    Lovelace said, “Yeah, she’s fine. But I think you were in Dallas. The cops found a used plane ticket at your house. Do you remember why you went there?”
    * * *
    When he couldn’t get Langdon, he’d driven to the airport and caught the first plane to Dallas.
    Not until he was airborne did he start planning what to do. He couldn’t go to the Dallas cops. He’d already considered that. They’d think he was crazy, and precious time would be lost.
    He rented a car and drove to the Bluebonnet Motor Lodge and thought,
No wonder she left; anybody would.
Which made him think she might be all right. But why hadn’t she called?
    The desk clerk who’d been busy when he called, a Hispanic-looking man in his forties, also couldn’t remember a Terri Whittaker, which nearly drove Isaac crazy; Terri had only been there three hours ago, and she wasn’t exactly forgettable. Finally, he pulled out his wallet and set it on the counter, feeling slightly cheesy. He had no clue how to offer a bribe without being offensive. He finally settled on “Hey, I know what might help. She was here for the
Mr. Right
show; they would have booked her.”
    The clerk beamed as if he’d had a revelation. “Oh, that lady. Sure, I remember her. Miss Hesler booked her. She lef’ in a hurry.”
    Isaac felt a vein twitch in his neck. “A hurry?” He tried to speak nonchalantly.
    “A lady come for her. She call from the lobby, and all of a sudden your frien’, Miss…”
    “Whittaker.”
    “Miss Whittaker come, lookin’ around her, kind of, like she just packed and she think she’s forgotten something.”
    “Was the lady Miss Hesler?”
    “No. I never seen her before.”
    “What can you remember about her?”
    “Nice car.”
    “
Nice car
?” Isaac was close to losing it. Who remembered people by their cars?
    “Brand-new Lexus.”
    “Okay, brand-new Lexus. What color Lexus?”
    The man thought about it. “I didn’ notice.”
    He figured the damn Lexus was white— they all seemed to be. But he sure as hell didn’t know anybody who drove one, and didn’t see how Terri could. So the question was this: Was the